Manhattan Recipe

The Most Controversial Cocktail: Who Will Win?

Every so often here at AskMen, two of our resident barkeeps, Josh Krist and Luke O'Neil, will go toe-to-toe with competing versions of the same drink. There's always controversy in the cocktails world about the merits of tradition versus innovation, and Josh and Luke are no different. That's particularly true when it comes to the only drink that might be more old-fashioned than the Old-Fashioned — the Manhattan.

Josh Krist, the old-school bartender, upholds tradition

When it comes to Manhattans, there ain’t nothing like the real thing, baby: rye, sweet vermouth and bitters. Why anyone would to strive to improve upon perfection is a plain mystery.

Some will say the Manhattan was created during the party of a political bigwig (Winston Churchill’s mother, of all people — we don’t doubt they could put it away in that family, but historical evidence points against this supposed party) at the Manhattan Club in, you guessed it, New York City. Others place the birth of the cocktail in the early 1800s, as a favorite of Manhattan’s upper-drinking class.

It ain't broke.

No matter where it started, the rye’s the clue that the roots of the Manhattan stretch into the dark precocktail history of our fair nation. See, before the Elvis and Don Ho made all things tropical (read rum and tiki-style drinks in general), and before vodka supplanted gin as American’s clear spirit of choice, George Washington was making his own hooch on his Mount Vernon estate. Thanks to the grain farmers’ swaying fields of rye, rye whiskey was America’s original party drink.

But, we digress. On the Manhattan itself, add two parts rye whiskey, one part sweet vermouth, and a dash or two of Angostura bitters. Stir over ice, pour into a lowball glass (some prefer a prechilled martini glass, but we find this a bit precious and not in keeping with the manly nature of the drink) and garnish with a maraschino cherry.

A favorite of mobsters, cocktail connoisseurs and Mad Men-style ad men since their respective professions began, the first sip of a Manhattan is a study of spicy and sweet. Traditional Manhattan

Luke O'Neil, the nonconformist bartender, breaks the rules

Considering its status as one of the most iconic — if not the most — cocktails ever stirred, you might think that unseating the perfect balance of a Manhattan would be akin to drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa. Quite the contrary. It's precisely because of its reputation that so many bartenders throughout cocktail history have found it the ideal jumping-off point for boozy excursions. It's no longer a finished product, in other words, but rather a series of guidelines to deviate from.

Each of the three aspects of the recipe of rye whiskey, sweet vermouth and bitters is ripe for variation. Although the Manhattan has traditionally taken rye as its base, bourbon has elbowed rye aside due to its sweeter profile. Using a Scotch whisky, the cocktail becomes known as a Rob Roy, although the smoke and peaty aspects of many Scotches don't lend themselves well to vermouth, in my opinion.

But who says you have to use vermouth? Considering its digestif qualities, it's a short jump to other spirits within that category. Subbing in other fortified wines, like a tawny port (in what's called a Ruby Manhattan), will show a striking difference in their mature, nutty character as compared to many overly cloying sweet vermouths. Bottom line: If it's a fortified red wine-based aperitif (and I'm partial to the spiced Dubonnet Rouge or the lightly bitter, drier Dolin), it will boost your Manhattan to the next level. You might also try a liqueur like a Cherry Heering to add a deeper, black cherry aspect to the mix, or even an anise-flavored liqueur or absinthe as a rinse for the glass, Sazerac-style.

Taking it all the way to the edge of tradition

That's only touching the surface. In the bitter component, the options are similarly broad. While Manhattans typically take Angostura bitters, feel free to experiment with orange bitters or, for a more floral note, Peychaud's. You might jump up to the amaro spirit category as well, trying the sharply bitter Fernet Branca or the bittersweet vegetal Cynar to add additional layers of complexity to your whiskey.

That is, if you're even still using whiskey by this point. Opinions will vary on how far afield you can go before a cocktail ceases to be a Manhattan, but other variations call for a wide variety of bases, like brandy or light or dark rums. The spirit substitution of the moment, however, is the unlikely seeming tequila. In making a tequila Manhattan, you'll want to use an añejo, one with enough of an aged, woody character to stand out, like Peligroso añejo, which I used, along with Dubonnet Rouge and a touch of lime juice. Doesn't sound like it should work, but it does.